2006 was a challenging year for me. Soon after it opened, due to a
combination of soft tissue/joint problems, I stopped training in
aikido and abandoned my goal of achieving mastery as a corsetiere. As
the year progressed, I had to accept pain as a companion on my walks,
and stepped off of (at least temporarily) a new creative path
involving hand sewing.

So, comes a clear crisp day in October. I accompanied my husband,
Stuart, to work in Berkeley. I was physically hurting and pretty
depressed, and decided a long walk in the sunshine might help. As I
walked up San Pablo towards University, fairly absorbed in self pity,
I passed an elderly man. He was in shabby but clean clothing, hunched
over a front-wheeled walker and walking about as slowly as a man could
without it being considered standing still. He called out if I could
spare some change for a cup of coffee. I said, "Sorry, no" as I
marched on.

I got about a quarter of a block further and stopped dead, asking
myself, "what the HELL is wrong with you that you should ever have
such disregard for another person?!." I turned and walked back to fall
into step with him and we started to chat.

He told me that he had started out in Oakland and was walking to a
doctor's appointment on University. Now, by my reckoning, at the point
he'd already walked at least three miles one slow step at a time,
clinging to that walker. He had another half mile to go. So I asked
about the appointment. He said that he'd gotten up in plenty of time
for it, but realized he didn't have money for the bus. Well, if you
work with old folks, you know that commonly the swift brainstorming of
alternate plans is not a strong point. So while he knew he was going
to be hours late, and maybe wouldn't be permitted to see the doctor,
he didn't really know what to do except keep on going and show up. All
he asked of the world was money for a cup of coffee to perk him up a
bit.

The above was delivered as we slowly ambled up San Pablo in the
sunshine, his attitude totally matter-of-fact, without self-pity or
embellishment. For my part, clearly I wasn't going to solve his other
problems, but it was pretty easy to take him at his word for what he
felt he needed. I gave him a few bucks for coffee and something to eat
and fare to eventually get home from the doctor's office, and wished
him well. I think also gave him the gifts of presence and respect, and
that felt pretty good.

But for his part, I doubt he know that he'd given me a tremendous gift
in return. As we parted ways, it struck me quite hard that I am more
than the sum of my physical capabilities or the job I do. Yeah, strip
away pretense, desire, masks, all the bullshit. Forget what I want to
do, forget what I think is important. If my heart is open, I remain a
person who can be with another person and offer to connect with
him. This is where my value as a person resides. For the first time in
my life, though it was not the path I would chose, I understood the
spiritual basis of the mendicant monk who goes forth into the world
willing to rely only on connection with others for sustenance.

This brief episode was a powerful attitude adjustment, simultaneously
sobering and uplifting. It also made me realize that, after a six year
hiatus from nursing, I was ready to return to the profession in which
I'd worked over 20 years. Two weeks after starting to send out
resumes, I was contacted by a program that wasn't even on my
radar. They invited me to apply for a position as nursing supervisor
at a non-profit residential program for people living with
HIV/AIDS. From the moment I stepped through the doors for the first
interview it felt like home. Sometime during December I'll step
through the doors as a nurse, but more so, I hope, as a genuine human
being with an open heart ready to connect. Oh, and to breathe, blend
and even restore harmony if need be (smile).